


Set Asunder

by wynnesome



Series: Go Bing-Or Go Home [2]
Category: Iron Man (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Character Study, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Introspection, Tony Stark: Iron Man (2018), Tony Stark: Iron Man (2018) #2, evil exes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-28 05:34:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19387534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynnesome/pseuds/wynnesome
Summary: Sunset Bain. A fitting appellation. She'd hit him, hard, everywhere it hurt the most. His tech. His heart. Add those two together, and you got pretty much all there was of him.Sunset Bain is not just one of Tony’s business competitors. She’s also an abusive ex, who betrayed him, stole his tech, and left him devastated. Now, some years later, she’s right back to the same tricks. So why is Tony acting flirtatious toward her and accepting her invitation for a dinner date?





	Set Asunder

**Author's Note:**

> Given Tony’s history with Sunset, it makes no sense at all, on the surface, for him to be flirting and accepting a date with her the way we see on the page in _Tony Stark: Iron Man_ #2. So I decided to look under the surface, and arrived at this interpretation.
> 
> It’s probably helpful to have read that issue for specific context, but I think the general sense of the situation can be gleaned from the fic itself.
> 
> Prompted by the "Evil Exes" square from the 616 Steve-Tony Discord's server anniversary bingo -- but not a fill for the bingo, since the idea it inspired me to write is not Steve-Tony-related.

Sunset Bain.

A fitting appellation. She'd hit him, hard, everywhere it hurt the most. His tech. His heart. Add those two together, and you got pretty much all there was of him.

For most of Tony's life, fear had only incited him to fling himself forward, headlong.

Quake and tremble how he might -- when he cowered, it was only on the inside. But she'd shaken him, badly.

Left his self-confidence in tatters, his emotional equilibrium an unmapped minefield too perilous to be navigated by his swagger and sterling smile.

Fast forward, and here they were, facing off once more. He'd chosen this confrontation, but only in the loosest sense.

It was an understatement to say he wasn't happy to be here, standing in front of Sunset on her turf, hounded yet again by the prospect of harm inflicted by his own stolen tech.

Choice was sometimes an illusion.

But he was a different man, now. Older, wiser, for all he was newly made. Rotting beams and rusted metal shored up, regenerated, the smile buffed to a fresh luster, untarnished.

 _Time of my life_ , this curl of lips said. _I do this for kicks. And punches, energy blasts, half-assed pseudo-science projects left unbridled as long as they go boom, whatever you wanna throw at me. Sure. Makes my day._

 _Getting beat to shit by minor league muscle tricked out with major-league firepower aimed in whatever direction it takes to earn a paycheck? Moral compass maybe a little askew of magnetic north, but not enough to merit getting sent home in a box, so do my best to take 'em down easy while they're gunning hard with everything they’ve got, not just for me, but for my best friend backing me up? You betcha_ , these bared teeth said. _Nowhere I’d rather be._

And she thought _he_ owed _her_ something? _"Dinner. At the Tavern. Wear something nice."_ Like she thought she could pick right back up where she’d left off? Wrap him around her finger, grind him under her heel, lead him around by the dick that was doing its best to crawl up into his body at the thought of being touched by her again?

Wear something nice? As if that would ever be a problem. Pardon his pun, he was certain he could come up with something to _suit_ the occasion. _My other suit's in the 'shop, and your dress, my dear, is off the rack..._

The Tavern? Where she'd ask his advice on the wine pairing, and then, _oh, silly me, how could I, but I'm sure you don't mind if I indulge?_ It'd be a red, he was sure, swirling in hypnotic sine curves around and around the bowl, red wine staining her lips and red lipstick staining the glass, the acidic sweetness of it wafting across from her side of the table, imposing itself like an edged caress of wine-red fingernails.

Did she think she could break him again?

_Keep your enemies closer..._

The same way he'd been known, on some of his worst days, to keep a bottle at hand.

Most days, he had bigger things, better, more important things to do. But now and then... now and then it was good to have the security.

Not because he'd begin to conceive of opening it.

But for the proof, at a glance, incontrovertible, that it was closed, sealed tight, locked away where it couldn't get to him.

Yes, he could face this thieving, conniving woman over dinner. One dinner. Eat a meal that would taste like ash. Make her eat her heart out. 

Drive home the bargain. He'd already named his price. _"Negative one red cent."_ " He wouldn't be buying back what was already his. Not with dollars, not with devotion.

One dinner.

And then all bets were off. She wanted to start it up with him again? Fine. Wouldn't be the first time he'd turned some tables, rewritten the rules of the hunt.

Yes, indeed.

He kept on smiling.

Sunset Bain was one demon it was time he laid to rest.


End file.
